


\ WEE 



3THER Poems. 



Br Mary J. MacColl 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

%^F - Gnp3|rig]^l f D 

Shelf .S^ 2)35 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



BIDE A WEE, 



OTHER POEMS. 



MARY jfMAcCOLL. 6 tWM- 







■ 0^^^'""'''*'^^ '^ 






■ /^l/ 




BUFFALO: 




E T E R 


PAUL & BROTHER. 




271 Main Street. 






1880. 






in-^'-. 






7/ 








Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1879, 

By MARY J. MacCOLL, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D^ C. 



The Courier Company, 

Electrotypers, Printers and Binders, 

Buffalo, N. Y. 



T OFFER these Poems to an indulgent public, 
feeling deeply their incompleteness in every 
respect. They have been written hastily, at intervals, 
under circumstances far from favorable to the cloth- 
ing of poetic thoughts in fitting garb. 

I dedicate them, with fond affection, to my dear 
Father, from whom I have inherited what little 
poetic feeling they may display. 

M. J. M. 
Buffalo, N. Y., Novejnher^ rSyg. 



CONTENTS. 



Page. 

To My Father, 9 

Bide a Wee, ...... 12 

A Sermon, 14 

Two Autumn Days, 17 

Contradiction, . . . . . . 21 

Fallen Stars, 23 

Returned, . . . . . . . 27 

St. Elmo* 29 

In Memoriam, 32 

Comfort, 35 

GooD-BY, ....... 37 

Tired to. Death, 40 

Gage D'Amour, 43 

Christmas, ...... 44 

One Less To-night, 47 

Another Year, ..... 50 

Snow, 53 

Edith Bell, 55 



VI CONTENTS. 

Page. 

To A Portrait, 58 

"After Many Days," .... 59 

Answered, ....... 62 

" Yet a Little While," .... 64 

Easter Song, ...... 66 

My Love, 68 

At Parting, 70 

My Lady, . 72 

A Penitential Prayer, .... 74 

Acrostic, 77 

Through Death to Life, .... 78 

Johnny's Letter, ..... 81 

Through the Storm, 84 

Mementos, 87 

An Ower True Tale, .... 89 

forget-me-nots, . . . . . . qi 

Beneath the Pines, . . . • • . 93 

Decorative Art, . . . . . 95 

Follies of To-day, ..... 98 

"My Grace is Sufficient for Thee," . 100 

Sunset, 102 



POEMS. 



TO MY FATHER. 

T~\EAR, honored father, who in childhood's 

^^ years 

Did'st fill to me the place of parents both 
So faithfully that scarce I felt that loss 
Which naught of earth can fully compensate — 
A mother's love and guidance — glad I tune 
My harp to sound thy praise, nor could I choose 
A nobler, fitter theme. An honest man, 
God's noblest work, thou art. For Truth and 

Right 
A champion undismayed, who ne'er at wrong 
Or aught unjust hath winked, because, forsooth 
The doers sat enthroned in places high. 
One who disdained to cringe to any man 
Although thereby he might have gotten gain 
And won position, ease, and all the good 
That baser minds would prize as far above 
A conscience clean and void of all offense. 



lO TO MY FATHER. 

E'en in the vilest thy broad charity 

Could clear discern the good — the spark divine — 

Though latent, waiting but the quickening breath 

Of noble influence, example pure. 

To fan it into never-dying flame. 

The lowest outcast was thy brother man ; 

No Levite thou, to take the other side ; 

A kindly, helping hand was ever stretched 

To all in need, and from thy hard-won store 

Thou gavest bountifully. None uncheered, 

Unaided, left thy ever-open door. 

No test of worthiness did'st thou require — 

That miserable excuse for heartlessness ; 

The greater to be pitied, in thine eyes. 

That wretch who knew that he himself had wrecked 

His own and worse, it might be, other lives ; 

And bowed beneath the burden of Too Late. 

A man thou art of simple, child-like faith. 
Enduring patience, and undying hope. 
In one grand word, thou art a Christ-like man. 
I think with sad regret of all the years 
Passed far from thee, for Providence decreed 



TO MY FATHER. II 

That my life-path, when thy protecting love 
I needed most, should far diverge from thine ; 
And I have missed thee sore a thousand times, 
But ever by my side thy spirit seemed 
To stand and counsel me to choose the good ; 
And sweeter praise on me was ne'er bestowed 
Than this, "• Thou 'rt very like thy father, child." 

Had I not lacked so oft thy sympathy, 
Thy tender guidance, ever wise reproof. 
My muse had taken loftier flights and thou 
Had'st seen thy youth again renewed in me ; 
But having to forego so much, my strains, 
E*en when I sing of thee, are faltering ; 
And yet a deep, unfathomable flood 
Of fond affection surges in my soul. 
In vain I strive to give it overflow 
In voiceless music, and within my heart 
It must remain a sweet, imprisoned song. 



PATIENCE. 

'' T3IDE a wee and dinna weary" 
^-^ ^' Patience" quaintly was defined 
By a little Scottish maiden, 

And the sweet words in my mind 
Ever linger, like the memory 

Of a beautiful refrain ; 
Making hours of gloom less dreary, 

When I breathe them o'er again. 



Fretted by the many crosses 

All must bear from day to day, 
Troubled by our cares and losses, 

Each of us hath need to say 
To our hearts, impatient, crying 

For the ships so long at sea. 
While faith faints and hope*is dying — 

'* Dinna weary, bide a wee." 



PATIENCE. 13 

*^ Rainy days " each life will sadden, 

Gentle shower, or tempest wild. 
Fall upon us, — blessings gladden 

In their turn. To every child 
Gives the Father or withholdeth, 

Ever wisely, tenderly ; 
Thus our hearts for Heaven He mouldeth, 

'^ Dinna weary, bide a wee." 

Some there are whom glad fruition 

'Neath the skies may never bless, 
Some to whose long-urged petition 

Ne'er will come the yearned-for ^^ yes." 
Why ? God knoweth — He who lendeth 

Strength to suffer trustingly. 
What He seeth best He sendeth— 

*^ Dinna weary, bide a wee." 

Hopeful wait a glad ^^ to-morrow 

Cast on Jesus every care, 
Not unseen by Him thy sorrow. 

Not unpitied thy despair. 
For His people there rcmaineth 

Rest and peace eternally, 
Where the light of joy ne'er wancth, 

'' Dinna weary, bide a wee." 



A SERMON. 

t^^ OING to church this morning, Helen? 
^^--^ Mamma thinks we ought to go. 
But that prosy parson preaches ; — 

I shall go to sleep, I know. 
After Kingsley's thrilling sermons, 

Think of settling calmly down 
To the " dry-as-dust " discourses 

One hears in this dull, old town. 

Never heard St. Ives new curate ? 

Oh, how much you've missed, dear girl ! 
While he's speaking one seems standing 

Very near the Gates of Pearl ; 
And he looks just like an angel 

In his gown ; — he's quite too good 
For (I cannot think who wrote it) 

'* Human nature's daily food." 

Yes, his people all adore him. 

Only think : last Christmas-day 
Forty pairs of lovely slippers 

To his study found their way; 



ASERMON. 15 

Costly knickknacks, scores of foot-rests, 
Pictures, books, and easy-chairs, — 

'' Traps enough," his '^ Boots " told Dennis, 
'' To have stocked a dozen fairs." 

He's a hero ; braver never 

Graced King Arthur's Table Round. 
No respecter he of persons — 

Every heart he seems to sound. 
Once *^ Thou shalt not steal " his text was: 

'^ Few,'* he said, *^ alas, how few 
Keep this law ! Let conscience answer, 

Are you honest ? Are you true ? 

** Steal 's an ugly word, I grant you. 

Well, ^ defraud not ' means the same. 
How we hate to give our foibles. 

As we call them, their just name. 
Guiltless — are you ? Have you never 

Smuggled hro^LdoXoih, satins, furs?'* 
I thought of my Alexandrines, — 

Mrs. Upton glanced at hers. 



l6 A SERMON. 

^' Did you pay each dollar duty 

On your velvets, silks, and lace ? " 
'' Great sensation ! " Breathless silence. 

Eloquent was every face. 
Belle Brown brought her Paris dresses 

Over in a ^^ crooked " way; 
Kate Clyde, too, her gloves and stockings 

And exquisite lingerie. 

After church we talked it over, — 

Vowed that we would never more 
Cheat those prying, pert inspectors ;— 

Why, it seemed a joke before. 
"' Carriage waiting." Well, I'll tell you 

Of another, on the way. 
Just as stirring, — how I wish, dear. 

We could hear him preach to-day. 



TWO AUTUMN DAYS. 

ALL day in gusty showers, I saw the leaves 
Swept eddying downward to the rain- 
soaked sod, 
I saw upon the uplands tented sheaves, 

And by the roadside wind-tossed golden rod. 

Above, the sullen sky frowned loweringly. 

Close-curtained, not the smallest patch of blue — 

A hint of brighter morrow — could I see. 
No gleam of silver lining peeping through. 

And bitterly I thought. How like my life 

Is this bleak day ! Hope's tree is lifeless, bare, 

Its empty arms are tossed in useless strife 

With fate, and sighing vainly, spare, O, spare ! 

Yet when the forest banners were unfurled. 
And fluttered in the balmy breeze of June, 

I too was gay, all perfect seemed the world, 
And my glad heart with nature's beat in tunc. 



l8 TWO AUTUMN DAYS. 

But in one day I saw the flowers of trust, — 
Flowers kindly tended and kept fresh by tears 

Of fond remembrance, trampled in the dust, 
And dying with the faith of long, sad years. 

Oh, 'twas a cruel blow, for well-loved hands 
Had dealt it — and I stood despairingly. 

Too faint to cry for aid, as one who stands 
Helpless on sinking ship, far out at sea. 

I could not weep, I could not even pray. 

My stricken heart cried. Where is now thy God ? 

What hast thou done, that He on thee should lay 
As in fierce anger, thus the chastening rod ? 

Thou call'st Him Heavenly Father, Lord of Love ; 

Would an all-powerful, earthly parent send 
Sorrow on sorrow ? Lo, thy trust doth prove 

All unavailing, on thyself depend. 

And long I bore my burden sore alone, 

I could not say ^^Thy will, not mine, be done." 

Unceasingly my aching heart made moan 

Through the long day, from dawn to set of sun. 



TWO AUTUMN DAYS. I9 

Oft in the silent watches of the night 

The *^ still, small voice'' spake gently, tenderly, 

'^ Trust me, my child, in time will come the light, 
And in this grief a blessing thou shalt see." 

Humbled at last, I bowed in prayer my head 
And cried, ^^ O, Saviour, take again my hand. 

Through starless deserts long my path hath led. 
My weary feet pressed only shifting sand. 

^^ Alone I cannot tread life's thorn-set road, 
I need Thine arm to stay. Thy voice to guide ; 

Take all I have, but keep me, O my God, 
A trusting child, forever near. Thy side." 

Then straightway came the Comforter to me. 
The troubled waters of my soul were stilled, 

The wondrous power that calmed deep Galilee 
With perfect peace my restless spirit filled. 

Soon was the meaning of my sorrow plain, 
I found a blessing what I deemed a cross, 

And owned with glad surprise the richest gain 
Where I had counted bitter, hopeless loss. 



20 TWOAUTUMNDAYS. 

And when next year, 'mid fields of waving grain, 
I saw the reapers binding golden sheaves, 

When southward fled the swallows, and again 
'Neath Autumn's kiss blushed crimson all the 
leaves, 

I gave glad thanks, for God my life had crowned, 
Like to the year, with fair fruition. Blest 

With His kind smile, like Heaven, this earth is 
found 
In every season. Yes, He knoweth best. 



CONTRADICTION. 

/^VER the purple hills, 

^^ On through the" dewy dale, 

Softly the twilight steals. 

Clad in her misty veil ; 
Dead is the after-glow ; 

Fair on the brow of night 
Gleameth the moon ; below 

Mirrors the lake her light. 

Creeping o'er clovered leas, 

Stealing through boughs abloom, 
Bloweth a gentle breeze 

Laden with rich perfume. 
Sweetly adown the dell 

Floateth a lightsome lay ; 
Katydid, hush ! and tell — 

Rideth my love that way ? 

Close by the ivied tower, 

Weaving sweet dreams, I wait. 

Wearing his favorite flower ; 
Yet when he ope's the gate 



22 CONTRADICTION. 

I shall be cold and shy ; 

The buds aside Til throw, 
And wish he would pass by, 

Though I should weep, I know. 

The robe he praised I wear, 

A simple gown of white ; 
Fve bound my shining hair 

With sprays of myrtle bright. 
O, heart ! he is anear ; 

In haste I turn aside. 
Albeit I love him dear. 

Dearer than all beside. 



FALLEN STARS. 

BEFORE the window little Mamie stood 
In night-robe white — her dimpled feet abare, 
Waiting in quiet, reverential mood, 

While sister Annie lisped her evening prayer. 

The smiling moon sailed slowly up the sky. 
And just above the gray horizon's bar 

Beamed down upon the earth, with golden eye, 
Twinkling and bright, a solitary star. 

'^The heavens declare God's glory," — from my 
heart 
These words of praise o'erflowed my lips in 
speech : 
How great, I thought, if this be only part 
The glory unrevealed, we hope to reach. 

Childhood's sweet, simple prayers had each been 
said ; 

Still I sat musing in the gathering gloom. 
Upon my knee had dropped the golden head, 

When sudden plaintive sobbing filled the room. 



24 FALLEN STARS. 

'' Mamie," I called, and hastened to her side. 
With eager questions filled with anxious fear ; 

" Not ill — then tell me why my darling cried? 
^' Not hurt — what is the matter — tell me, dear?" 

^M cried because the naughty mamma moon 

Has left the little, tiny baby star. 
And gone away into the sky alone. 

So high, so very high, and oh, so far." 

Quick to my eyes, warm tears responsive welled ; 

Close to my heart I pressed the sad, sweet face, 
Giving glad thanks that in my arms I held 

My fair, twin stars in tender, safe embrace. 

I thought how many '^wandering stars" to-night 
Are far away from mother-love and care. 

How many fallen — once as pure and bright 
As these my treasures — innocent and fair. 

'' Who is sufficient?" Vain is human power 
Alone to keep the wolf outside the fold ; 

The strong are weajc in dark temptation's hour, 
The '' old, old story" all in vain is told. 



FALLEN STARS. 2$ 

Alas, those straying ones ! How little they 
Who ne'er have stood alone can understand 

How hard life's battle. is from day to day, 
What cunning snares are set on every hand. 

Poor, lonely souls, to whom the lamps of heaven 
Bring only thoughts of dread, remorse and 
shame ; 

Have we, their sisters, ^^to whom much is given," 
Done all we might to rescue and reclaim ? 

We give of our abundance, clothing, food, 

We counsel, warn, read sermons, proffer tracts. 

And deem such heartless service doing good. 
Forgetful it the ^^ one thing needful " lacks — 

The spirit of the Master. While we stand 
Clad in self-righteousness to preach and pray, 

Yet shrink to touch with ours the outcast's hand, 
Or one kiss on a branded forehead lay. 

How can they trust in God the Father's love. 
His power to cleanse the vilest from all sin, 

When by our deeds our fair words we disprove? 
We doubt them, and we fear to take one in. 



26 FALLEN STARS. 

And they go forth once more, we know not where ; 

Perhaps to fall again a helpless prey : 
Sin*s heavy burdens all alone to bear, 

Alone to struggle up the ^^ narrow way/' 

Yet Christ hath said, ^' If for the least of these 
Ye have done aught it hath been as for me ;" 

Each fallen star His eye with pity sees. 
Each straying sheep He seeketh tirelessly. 

Unseen, the Shepherd walketh by our side, 

How dare we, then, in thought, even, *^ cast a 
stone''? 
Beneath the Pharisaic robe of pride 

His eye doth pierce, all hearts to Him are 
known. 



RETURNED. 

DROOPING lilacs, nod and sway 
AH your fragrant purple plumes; 
Robins, sing your sweetest lay 

'Mid the dainty apple-blooms ; 
Golden sunshine, flowerets rare. 

Shine and blossom bright, I pray ; 
Smile, O sky, O winds, blow fair — 
For my lover comes to-day. 

Comes from sailing o'er the main 

Back to wed his promised bride ; 
From the casement once again 

Shall I see his swift bark glide 
Up the silver-crested bay, 

Where the ripples dance and gleam 
Till beneath the sunlight they 

Waves of liquid silver seem. 

Just one little year ago 

Since we parted on the strand ; 
Then as now, like perfumed snow, 

Blossoms strewed the meadow-land ; 



28 RETURNED. 

Earth had donned her robe of green, 
Daisy-broidered, gemmed with gold ; 

Ah, how Hke a troubled dream 

Seem the months that since have rolled. 

Hasten, darling, o*er the sea, 

For to-day is due thy vow ; 
*' Love," you whispered, '' look for me 

When upon the crimson bough 
Of the maple bluebirds sing. 

When the swallows 'neath the eaves 
Ivy-crowned are twittering, 

And the zephyrs woo the leaves.'* 

Drooping lilacs, nod and sway 

All your fragrant purple plumes ; 
Robins, sing your sweetest lay 

'Mid the dainty apple-blooms ; 
For my own true lover now 

Clasps me closely to his heart. 
Whispers, kissing lips and brow, 

^* Darling, mine, no more we part." 



ST. ELMO. 

ONE summer Sabbath Grandma Gordon bent 
In reverent meditation o'er the Book, 
Wherein she found the wondrous balm which lent 
Her placid face its gentle, happy look. 

The day to her was truly God's own day, 

Kept unprofaned from taint of worldly things ; 

Tabooed were novels, journals, — papers lay 

Untouched. The rustling faint of angels' wings 

At eventide, in fancy, we could hear. 

When at the household altar low we bowed ; 

So heavenly round her seemed the atmosphere, 
We scarcely dared to speak our thoughts aloud. 

Stretched out upon the lounge lay brother Rex, 
Weary of brooding over ^' Guthrie's Life ; " 

I pondered over the problems which perplex 
Each human heart with endless mystery rife. 



30 ST. ELMO. 

Half hidden by the curtains Katie sat 
Curled, kitten-like, upon an easy chair, 

On book intent, — near her upon the mat 

Old Nestor crouched, with watchful, serious air. 

At length a voice the solemn stillness broke — 
Rex, boy-like, craved yet more than ^' food for 
thought ''— 

From her sweet reverie grandmamma awoke, 
And Katie's face her loving eyes first sought. 

Smiling, she kindly said, " I'm pleased, my dear, 
To see such eager interest in your book ; 

Heed Wisdom's voice whene'er she calls and 
hear." 
Kate listened with a roguish, guilty look. 

*' What is the title, darling ? " The reply 

Came prompt, ''St. Elmo." I look up amazed. 
*^The name seems strange," said grandma, with a 
sigh. 
*' Ah, how my memory fails, but. Heaven be 
praised. 



ST. ELMO. 31 

^' Each saintly life will strengthen hope and faith 
In one's own heart, — read all, dear, pass by 
none." 
Rex coughed and vanished, while I held my 
breath, 
And wicked Katie read demurely on. 



IN MEMORIAM. 

DAVID DE VEAUX ALTMAN. 

DEAD, with the dew still fresh upon the 
flowers 
Which made life's pathway sweet, 
His sun gone down in the bright morning hours, 
Its glory incomplete. 

Gone, swift as rosy dawn, as flowerets rare, 

As even's glowing gold, 
A story ended, closed the volume fair, 

With all the best untold. 

Dead, as when dies a glad, exultant song 

Ere yet the sweetest strain 
Is reached, — with eager ears we wait and long. 

No sound floats back again. 

A father crieth, as King David cried 

Of old, ^^ My son ! my son ! 
My son, would God that I for thee had died ! " 

My hope, my only one. 



INMEMORIAM. 33 

My darling boy ! I seek him everywhere, 

I cannot make him dead, 
I seem to hear in chamber, hall, on stair, 

His voice, his buoyant tread. 

Light of mine eyes ; long had I hoped on thee 

To lean when age came on. 
Yet I am left, a bowed and stricken tree. 

And thou, my staff, art gone ! 

A tender mother mourns for him, her pride, 

Crown of her womanhood. 
Strong, generous, brave, he grew up by her side 

With every grace imbued. 

With mother-love she read the coming years. 

And saw a proud place won 
By him o'er whom she weepeth hopeless tears, 

Her happy dreaming done. 

A loving sister calls with aching heart, 

O, brother, come again ; 
Had'st thou but said good-by ere we did part, 

Less bitter were our pain. 



34 I N M E M O R I A M. 

But O, to have no kiss, no clasp of hand, 

No glance from thy blue eyes. 
Nor slightest gesture love could understand, — 

No last, fond word to prize. 

Sore stricken hearts, how can I comfort ye ; 

Alas, too well I feel 
The kindest words must seem but mockery 

And wound, where meant to heal. 

Yet O, believe, Our Father knoweth best, 

He giveth soonest sleep 
To his beloved, happy, peaceful rest. 

They do not wake to weep. 

The angels called him, ere his young white soul 

Was smirched by stain of sin. 
His race is ended, — he hath reached the goal. 

And when ye enter in 

Triumphant through the gates with jubilant song, 

The loved and lost shall be 
First in that wondrous bright, angelic throng. 

To meet and welcome ye.. 



COMFORT. 

THOUGH many flowers have faded from my 
life, 
And clouds obscure the brightness of its sky, 
Though still amid the turmoil and the strife 

I must toil onward, as the days go by ; 
O, loving Father ! I can lift to Thee 

Grateful thanksgiving, and the voice of praise, 
A harvest fair of blessings, unto me 

Thy love hath given, lo, these many days. 

Oft have I questioned with the poet old, — 

^* Doth God exact day labor light denied ? " 
Must they whose lives are sad, and dark, and cold, 

Work bravely on, peaceful and satisfied ? 
Can I make others glad, when no bird sings 

Within the bloomless garden of my heart ? 
And self-forgetting lead to better things 

Those who in deeper shadows dwell apart ? 



36 COMFORT. 

This have I learned, we can do much to make 

Our lives a blessing, and our words a power, 
If what we find to do for Christ's dear sake 

We do with faithfulness, from hour to hour. 
The wondrous story loved by old and young 

Was penned by Bunyan in a prison cell, 
In banishment the great-souled Dante sung 

His grand, prophetic strain of Heaven and Hell 

And still their name is legion who have wrought 

Steadfast and calm, bereft of earthly cheer ; 
Songs in the night by angels have been taught. 

Which wakeful, praying souls alone could hear. 
Thus thinking on these things my heart grows 
strong. 

And I walk nearer to my heavenly guide 
And bless Him for the joys I have, — ere long 

'^ Beyond the veil," I shall be satisfied. 



G O O D - B Y. 

r^ OOD-BY ! I cannot speak it, love, to thee, 
^^J That saddest of all words ; my quick tears 

flow 
At thought of parting ; life would sunless be 
Without thee ; nay, I cannot bid thee go. 

I know that by thy side Hope smiling stands, 
Painting a future fair and bright to thee — 

Fame, fortune, waiting in the golden lands 
That lie afar, beyond the glittering sea. 

Could'st thou be free from ill through all the years 
We must be severed, ere fruition come 

To thy sweet dreams, I'd smile e'en through my 
tears. 
And bid thee go, win power and wealth and fame. 

But, ah, I cannot pierce the mystic veil 

Which darkly shrouds the future from my sight, 

And I would weep, and long for thee by day 
And dream of dangers round thee in the night. 



38 GOOD-BY. 

Even now, I think how many proud, young heads 
Are lying low, beneath the shining sand ; 

How many vessels bearing brave, young hearts, 
Have sailed, but never, never reached the land. 

O, darling, think what it would be to die, 
To yield up hope, and love, and life alone ; 

Unwept o'er, in a nameless grave to lie. 

From friends afar, uncared for and unknown. 

Would strangers tenderly across thy breast 

Fold these dear hands, and from thy brow 
when cold 

Smooth the dark locks I have so oft caressed. 
With tender touch, in the blest days of old ? 

Will careless watchers see the last soul-ray 
Die from the eyes now looking into mine? 

Nay, I read in them that thy lips will say 

Farewell Ambition, Love, the victory's thine ! 

O, chide me not, mine may be needless fears, 
Fate might be kind, and smile, beloved, on thee ; 

But, ah, remember, years, long weary years. 
Must pass ere thou could'st come again to me. 



GOOD -BY. 39 

I could not climb life's rugged mountain side 
Without thy strong right arm to lean upon ; 

I could not stem the waves of sorrow's tide 
Without thy voice and smile to cheer me on. 

O, what is gold, or rank, or power to me ? 

They will not satisfy an aching heart : 
And wanting love how cold the world would be, 

How desolate — with all its show and art. 

I love thee, darling, more than I can tell, 
All else I could yield up ; but thee, ah, no. 

Not e'en when dying shall I say farewell, 

Sweetheart, sweetheart, I cannot bid thee go ! 



TIRED TO DEATH. 

OH, Marie, come quickly and take off my 
shoes; 

Now, bring my white /^^^;^<9/>, and let down my 
hair ; 
Fm tired to death ! Grace, you must excuse 

Me to Alice and Captain Bellair. 
Not a moment of rest all this day have I had 

Since my coffee was brought me at ten, 
With the papers. Each item of interest I read : 

By the way, Fm disgusted with men ! 
A second Maud MuUer young Moneyworth's wed. 

When he might — but no matter — and then 
An hour was spent dressing, — a letter I wrote 

To Bell Breeze — she's a love of a girl ! 
Drove to Russell's — was fitted — then penned a 
sweet note 

To Fred Fairleigh : that card case of pearl 
He sent me — a bet on the races last week. 

Yes, archery is quite the rage : 
A cute polo pony's my very last freak — 

Fll never fall back of the age. 



TIRED TO DEATH. 41 

Had breakfast at one ; then a short nap I took ; 

Read Daniel Deronda till three ; 
I must say it's tedious — not my style of book — 

George Eliot 's too solid for me. 
Now, Southworth and Flemming are just to my 
taste, 
And French novels are quite au fait, 
Kate Norris called next — oh, how tight she was 
laced, 
And I'm sure she was painted to-day. 
While we talked, Clara Alden rushed in with a 
gush, 
I thought she would strangle me quite ; 
Her brother is charming, you know, dear, don't 
blush — 
I saw that flirtation last night. 

Next, Mordant dropped in — he's a donkey ; but 
then 

He's worth a cool million or more ! 
Ma thinks him the nicest and wisest of men — 

To me he's a horrible bore. 



42 TIREDTODEATH. 

But I don't mean to snub him ; his T-cart and 
drag 

Are the most stunning turn-outs Tve seen ; 
While driving, to-day, we met Marion Flagg, 

And with envy she fairly turned green. 
One cannot well blame her, he is such a catch. 

And the poor girl is growing passe. 
How she has manoeuvered to make a good match ! 

What ! Grace, six o'clock, did you say ? 
Why, I must be dressing ; at seven we dine 

At Delmonico's. What shall I wear ? 
The German at Granger's commences at nine — 

Shall I bang, friz or scollop my hair ? 
How frightful to think I have not a new dress ; 

I'm sure I've appeared at least twice. 
While at Newport, in each of the robes I possess. 

My white mull — do you think that is nice ? 
Come, Marie, make haste, you are always so 
slow — 

I wish I had time to take breath ; 
Well, darling, good-by, if you really must go. 

Thank goodness! I'm tired to death. 



GAGE D^AMOUR. 

THERE came to me a little page one day, 
In livery of red, and green, and gold, — 
He uttered not a word. 
Not e'en a sigh I heard ; 
And yet his message sweet, to me he told, — 
A greeting from my lover far away. 

A white-winged dove, had borne my dainty page 
O'er hill and dale, across the wide, blue sea, 
I kissed him o'er and o'er, — 
'Twas but a leaf, — no more, — 
From Autumn's crown, my love had sent to me, — 
Topaz with rubies set, a true knight's gage. 



CHRISTMAS. 

T O, Merry Christmas smiles again ! 
-*^-^ Day brightest in the year, 
And happy greetings fill the air 

Re-echoing far and near. 
Let Yule logs blaze, and every home 

Be decked with holly gay. 
Without, within, all should be fair 

On this the children*s day. 

How many feet adown the stair 

Were flying ere the light. 
To where the stockings in a row 

Were hung with hope last night ? 
How many youthful hearts beat high, 

When full and brimming o'er 
With Santa's gifts their own they found } 

Bliss ! — earth could give no more. 



CHRISTMAS. 45 

To-day, each grandsire will grow young 

To share the joyous glee 
Of laughing girls and merry boys, 

That gather round his knee. 
And grandmamma live o'er again 

The time so long ago. 
When saucy Harry kissed her first, 

Beneath the mistletoe. 

And in a thousand homes to-day 

The story will be told — 
The wondrous story, ever new, 

Albeit ages old — 
Of the blest Babe at Bethlehem born 

Long centuries ago. 
The ^' King of Kings,'' from Heaven sent. 

To save the world from woe. 

And of the anthem, angel-voiced. 

That filled the midnight sky — 
" Peace and good-will to men on earth ; 

Glory to God on high." 
Of three wise men that came from far ; — 

The star that led their way 
By hill and plain, until it shone 

O'er where the young child lay. 



46 CHRISTMAS. 

Alas ! how many ne'er have heard 

The tidings strange and glad ; 
Who grope through life uncheered by hope, 

Unloved, uncared for, sad. 
Let us remember those who have 

No joy in earth or Heaven, 
And give to-day of our good cheer, 

As God to us hath given. 



ONE LESS TO-NIGHT. 

T T ERE she stood beneath the mantel 
-^ ^ Just a year ago to-night, 
With her smiHng face uphfted, 

Cheeks aglow, and blue eyes bright, 
Holding up a little stocking ; 

While her sweet voice eagerly 
Pleaded ^' Won't you hang it, mamma, 

Where old Santa Claus can see? " 

Lone I sit by dying embers, 

Christmas eve has come and gone ; 
And the bell in yonder steeple 

Slowly tolls the hour of one. 
One — my heart re-echoes sadly. 

Two were here one year ago ; 
By my side my boy lies dreaming, 

She is sleeping 'ncath the snow. 



48 ONE LESS TO-NIGHT. 

Here, with dimpled hands close folded, 

Did she lisp her evening prayer. 
But no white-robed form now kneeleth 

By the tiny, vacant chair. 
Once for all the red lips murmured, 

'^ Now I lay me down to sleep,'* 
And the blue eyes closed forever 

In a slumber, dreamless, deep. 

Morn, and noon, and night, we miss her, 

Listening often, all in vain. 
For the sound of coming footsteps 

We shall never hear again. 
Little feet the loving Saviour 

Early through the Pearly Gate 
Led them, knowing in life's journey 

Thorns must wound them, soon or late. 

Oh ! the loneliness and sorrow 

In our hearts and in our home. 
When we know on no ^^ to-morrow '' 

Will our absent darling come ! 
Why this cross ? we grieving question, 

God, who took our idol, knew 
If our ^^ treasure " were in Heaven 

We would long to follow too. 



ONE LESS TO-NIGHT. 49 

And we know to-night she is singing 

In the palace of the King — 
Once the Blessed Babe of Bethlehem — 

And our fond hearts ever cling 
To our loved one — yet, this morning 

Through our blinding tears we smiled, 
Saying, while we wreathed her picture, 

^^ It is well " with our sweet child. 



ANOTHER YEAR. 

T N my Book of Life, leaf after leaf 

The Master's hand turned o'er 
E'en to the last, while I in grief 

Stood trembling, weeping sore, 
Thinking how marred, and dark with spots 

Was every page my tears 
Had washed in vain, to cleanse the spots 

From the record of the years. 

In dread I waited the just rebuke. 

And bowed in shame my head ; 
But, gently my hand in His own He took, — 

'' Fear not, my child," He said ; 
" I will not chide — see, free from stain. 

Another page, pure, fair. 
Before thee lies, try yet again. 

Write good deeds, true words there." 



ANOTHER YEAR. 51 

Upward I looked, the touch, the tone 

So tender, moved my heart 
To thank and bless Him, but alone 

I stood, with lips apart 
Thrilling with words unsaid, — my eyes 

Saw not the face Divine ; 
But the golden stars in the purple skies, 

And I heard the church bells chime. 

Solemn and slow the midnight hour 

They pealed, then loud and clear 
Rang merrily out, from every tower 

To greet the glad New Year. 
And I knew but a dream was my vision bright. 

Yet its meaning came to me 
Like the welcome gleam of a beacon light 

To the mariner far at sea. 

When the clock struck ten, two hours before. 

From a merry group I sped 
Alone, to my chamber, and closed the door, 

Then each penned page I read 
Of my diary small, to the very last, — 

And all were stained and wet 
With bitter tears, for the vanished past 

I grieved, with vain regret. 



52 ANOTHER YEAR. 

'* Twelve months/' I wailed, '' have flown away- 

Ah, me ! how swift they went, 
And I cannot recall a single day 

Of the many lost, misspent/' 
Then low I knelt by the window-seat 

To pray, — for God more nigh 
Did seem (so ran my fancy sweet), — 

Could I but see the sky. 

There like a child myself to sleep 

I sobbed, and the vision bright 
Shone softly through my slumber deep, 

And my sorrow put to flight. 
For it seemed as if on my list'ning ear 

Those pleading words, for me 
Fell, ** Father ! yet another year 

Spare thou, oh, spare this tree ! '* 

To all, God gives the Book of Life 

A pure, white page turned o'er ; — 
O, let us wage a ceaseless strife. 

And fight as ne'er before 
For the glorious prize, the victor's crown, 

Glad when the goal is won 
At the Master's feet to cast it down. 

And hear his sweet, ^^ Well done." 



SNOW. 

T7R0M frost-kissed, fern-traced window 
^ I watch the fleecy snow, 
So softly faltering downward 

To clothe the earth below ; 
Flakelet on flakelet falling. 

Pure as soul of a child, 
Fairer than lily chalice, 

Stainless and undefiled. 

Crowning each cot and mansion. 

Shrouding the long, dark street, — 
White as the glistening foam-bells. 

Noiseless as fairy feet. 
Draping the leafless branches, 

Gemming with pearls each spray, 
Bringing a dream of blossoms, 

And sunny, fragrant May. 



54 s N o w. 

Each tiny star's a jewel 

Graven by God's own hand, 
Bearing a mystic signet, 

Seal of a King's command. 
Lighting alike on lowly 

And men of high degree — 
Ten thousand thousand preachers 

Of purity are ye. 

Snow, spotless snow, fit emblem 

Of every heart e'er sin 
The spirit's shrine profaneth. 

And evil reigns within. 
Who hath a stainless tablet? 

Yet, if to God we go, 
" Though red our sins like scarlet, 

They shall be white as snow.*' 



EDITH BELL. 

T AM dreaming, Edith Bell, 

^ Of youth's happy hours and thee ; 

Ocean waves between us swell, 
Yet thou seemest near to me. 

Mist-like fade the long, lone years. 
Fled since we a last farewell. 

Mutely looked, through blinding tears- 
Parted hopeless, Edith Bell. 

Round my heart, dear Edith Bell, 

Sad, sweet memories cluster fast ; 
Chaining me in fancy's spell. 

Bringing back the sunny past 
Ere we trod earth's thorny ways. 

Ere life's shadows on us fell — 
Childhood's careless, cloudless days, 

Fair and fleeting, Edith Bell. 



56 EDITH BELL. 

Of the Summers, Edith Bell, 

When we wandered by the sea, 
Building castles, shell on shefl. 

Launched our tiny bark with glee. 
Roamed by hazel-skirted streams. 

Gathered berries in the dell ; 
One long feast of golden dreams 

Seemed our life, then, Edith Bell. 

Winter days, sweet Edith Bell, 

Ne'er to us seemed dark or drear; 
And we loved, when twilight fell. 

Grandma's wondrous tales to hear 
Of grim ghosts, or fairies bright. 

Brownie's help, or witches' spell, 
Wailing banshee, evil sprite. 

Never doubting, Edith Bell. 

Time sped onward, Edith Bell, 

Brought me sorrow, toil and care ; 
But no shadow seemed to dwell 

On your life, 'twas glad and fair 
As the future we had planned 

Mid the gowans, in the dell, 
Where we sat, hand clasped in hand- 

'Twas our Eden, Edith Bell. 



EDITH BELL. 57 

Dost remember, Edith Bell, 

When the last time there we met ? 
Could we e*er such woe foretell ? 

Can we e'er such grief forget ? 
Still your words ring out to me, 

Softer, then, were thy death-knell, 
'' In the morn a bride you'd be — 

Lady Lisle," my Edith Bell ! 

Love was conquered, Edith Bell, 

By ambition, and the fear 
Of a father's curse. Too well 

Had I loved, and still more dear 
Than my life art thou to me : 

Weary years, nor death, can quell 
Love's fire kindled but by thee. 

In my heart, dear Edith Bell. 

Snow-white now, sweet Edith Bell, 

Say they, is thy raven hair ; 
Lines of care and sorrow dwell 

On the brow, lang-syne so fair ; 
But no change my heart can see, 

So I heed not what they tell ; 
Thou art ever young to me, 

Ever bonnic, Edith Bell. 



TO A PORTRAIT. 

O PERFECT ideal face, which long in vain 
Throughout the world I sought, until with 
pain — 
The bitter pain of finding idols clay. 
Of gathering fair, false, dead sea fruit alway— 
Heart-weary I the useless quest gave o'er, 
E'en as an exile on a foreign shore 
Scans with an eager gaze each passing face. 
Remembering one with lines of tender grace ; 
Yet as long years roll by and all hope dies, 
With lagging steps he walks, and downcast eyes. 
And thus, unheeding, I moved on life's way 
With listless air, — nor features grave nor gay 
Enchained my gaze, — until (like heaven earth 

seemed 
That golden morn) the face of which Pd dreamed 
By day, by night, I found, — and claimed thee 

mine, — 
My true soul mate, as I, beloved, am thine. 



"AFTER MANY DAYS." 

1\ /r USING I sat one dismal, cheerless day, 
^^ ^ Suffering and sorrowful, with hopeless 

eyes 
Fixed on the ground, as if below there lay 
Some dark abyss, from which all troubles rise. 

Few hearts are unimpressed by Nature's mood ; 

When she doth frown and weep, sad memories 
wake, 
And even youth's day-dreams are sombre-hued, 

Life seems a mystery deep, or sad mistake. 

Strange, when the gloom of sorrow's night comes 
on. 

Straight we forget the dewy, radiant morns — 
Strange, when the beauty of a rose is gone. 

Most often comes remembrance of its thorns. 



6o ''AFTER MANY DAYS." 

As darker grew the day, with darker lines 

I sketched each picture from life scenes long 
past ; 
Dark cypress trees and ever-sighing pines 

Formed every background, and weird shadows 
cast. 

Shadows that hid the sunny slopes from sight, 
And fair mist-mantled hills that lay beyond, 

The emerald meadows starred with daisies white, 
The fleets of Hlies anchored in the pond. 

I passed all by, and came to Memory*s grave — 
Alas, though I have made it wide and deep. 

Though flowers bloom o'er her, and long grasses 
wave. 
She stirreth often, whispering in her sleep. 

Like ghosts old griefs and wrongs from out the 
Past 

Through my soul's chambers flitted one by one. 
And o'er my life a heavy pall seemed cast. 

Nor star of hope shone out, nor gleam of sun. 



''AFTER MANY DAYS/' 6l 

How like to children are we — when afraid, 
In doubt or anguish, to the Father's face 

We wistful look, as mutely asking aid ; 

Thus I looked up to pray for help and grace. 

And lo, it seemed as if an unseen hand 
Had traced again a message on the wall 

In speech I could not fail to understand 
No prophecy of some great city's fall. 

But a sweet promise kindling hope anew, 

'' God is our refuge and our strength," — twice o'er 

I read the precious words, and felt them true, 
And sweeter seemed they than e'er before. 

For little hands this motto worked for me 

With loving care, e'er they grew still and cold ; 

And oft a childish voice read solemnly 

The sweet assurance from the Book so old. 

And through my tears, with grateful heart, I said, 
'' O Lord, how wondrous are Thy works and 
ways;" 

Upon the waters once I cast my bread, 
And lo, I find it '' after many days." 



ANSWERED. 



F' 



;^ORGOTTEN ?— darling, nay, I love thee still 
With all the fervor of the olden days ; 
As then, imperial o'er my heart and will 

Thou reignest, crowned with never-fading bays. 



Why ask if in the windows of my soul 
A rival's eyes now read the secret sweet 

Thine own have conned, as from an open scroll. 
So oft, in happy hours, alas, too fleet ? 

O my beloved ! what need have I to tell 

That absence makes thee only still more dear? 

Life is not life without thee, ah, — too well 
Thou knowest how I long to have thee near. 

Miss thee ? — would Earth not miss the King of 
Day, 

Did fair Aurora cease at morn to fold 
The rose-lined curtains of his tent away. 

And lead him forth, in robes of gleaming gold? 



ANSWERED. 63 

O ! dark as death seem all the leade-n hours 
Which must be numbered ere thy face I see ; 

As summer rain to drooping, dying flowers, 
So will thy coming be, dear one, to me. 

My king of men ! I love, aye, worship thee. 
And oft I pray. Lord, be my sin forgiven, 

If sin it be, to love so tenderly 

Him in whose presence Earth seems like to 
Heaven. 



B 



"YET A LITTLE WHILE." 

EYOND the clouds smiles the clear blue sky, 
And the sun will shine when the storm 
blows by. 



In the frost-bound earth through the winter lay 
The flowers that in beauty bloom to-day, 

And soon from the buds on the bare brown trees. 
Will banners of green be unfurled to the breeze. 

Cloud, flower, and leaf, ye are teachers three 
Of the many my Father hath given to me. 

The lesson ye teach I can understand ; 
To me 'tis as rain to the thirsty land. 

I know that the sunlight will gild my sky, 
In the sweet, mysterious '' by-and-by ; " 

And from chilly realms of dark despair, 
Will spring Hope's blossoms fresh and fair. 



''YET A LITTLE WHILE." 65 

Then my heart will thrill like a wind-kissed leaf, 
Though it fainteth now 'neath a weight of grief. 

Oh, Thou who dost clothe the lilies aye, 
In light or in shade may I feel Thee nigh ; 

May my faith burn bright, and my love be strong, 
Though the tempest rage, and the night be long. 

Help me to work while 'tis yet to-day — 
Ere the twilight falleth cold and gray ; 

Help me with careful hand to sow 

Good seed from whose germs no tares may grow. 

May the Lord of the harvest upon me smile. 
When He cometh to reap in '' a little while." 



EASTER SONG. 

BLITHE heralds of the Spring break into 
singing, 
Warble your sweetest, merriest notes to-day ; 
Peal out, glad bells, the joyful tidings ringing, 
Christ hath arisen, the stone is rolled away ! 

Haste, laughing brookle-t, tell it to the river, 

O hasten, river, sing it to the sea ; 
Chant the grand anthem to the shore forever, 

Wild waves of ocean — shout it ceaselessly. 

Smile, mother Earth, thy richest treasures proffer. 
Thy lovely, first-born darlings, pure and fair. 

And bid them from a myriad censers offer 
The sweetest incense, like a voiceless prayer. 

Rejoice, rejoice, all things in Earth and Heaven, 
Bless the Redeemer with united breath ; 

Glory and praise be to the victor given, 
Jesus hath triumphed over sin and death ! 



EASTER SONG. 6/ 

Rejoicfe all nations ! Christ our Saviour liveth, 
To help the weak, to raise up those who fall ; 

Joy passing knowledge, lasting peace He giveth, 
Love, rest, eternal life, offers He to all. 

Meet are our offerings, meet our adoration, 
Dear Mediator, all we owe to Thee ; 

" O, wondrous love, which purchased our salva- 
tion," 
This be our song, throughout eternity? 



MY LOVE. 

A HALO bright, of golden hair, 
Doth crown her royally ; 
Her low, broad brow is white as foam 

Upon a stormy sea. 
Like open violets gemmed with dew 

Her laughing, soul-lit eyes, 
Serene and clear and deeply blue 

As cloudless summer skies; 
And bright they beam as fair twin stars 

Through rifted cloud, when night 
Has donned her trailing, sable robes, 

And veiled the moon from sight. 

Her lips are like to coral wet 

By kiss of rippling waves. 
Less faultless than her teeth the pearls 

That gleam in ocean caves. 
Her cheeks have caught the faint, sweet flush 

Of rosebuds ere they blow, 



MY LOVE. 69 

And fair her dainty, dimpled chin 

As freshly-fallen snow. 
Soft is her winning voice, and clear 

As sound of woodland streams, 
A voice that ever haunts me, sweet 

As music heard in dreams. 

Like lilies are her little hands. 

In fancy even now 
I feel, O bliss ! their soft, pink palms 

Like rose leaves touch my brow ; 
And falleth on mine ear a sound. 

Of all sweet sounds most sweet, 
The co.ming footsteps, light and low, 

Of dancing, fairy feet. 
My love, my life ! how thrills my heart 

With joy unfelt, unknown, 
Ere Heaven had sent thee to my side, 

My peerless one, my own ! 



AT PARTING. 

BEFORE we said farewell, upon my hand 
He pressed two kisses, tenderly and slow ; 
The first fell just below this golden band 

(His pledge of troth) here, where the blue veins 
show. 

The second kiss he folded in my palm, 

Saying the while, '^ My darling, ne'er forget 

That thus I seal thee mine, in storm and calm. 
Come weal, come woe, until life's sun shall set. 

'' O, love of mine ! I consecrate these hands 
To noble deeds, to Christ-like ministry, 

Ready for harvesting the world's field stands. 
Go forth to reap, the Master needeth thee." 

A third kiss on my brow he fondly pressed, 

And said, '^ Dear, keep thy thoughts as pure as 
snow," 

Then in a rain on lips and eyes the rest 
Fell passionately, while he whispered low, 



AT PARTING. J\ 

'' My own, my own, from these sweet lips and eyes 
Let Truth's white soul speak out ; thou canst 
not tell 
How many hopeless souls up to the skies 

Thy faithfulness may lift from Doubt's dark 
hell." 

He went afar, a hero's part to take 

In life's fierce battle ; trustingly I pray, 

And strive to reach great heights for his dear sake. 
Knowing he'll come again to me, some day. 

When life seems hard, close to my aching brow 
And tearful eyes I clasp caressingly 

The hand he kissed. The memory of his vow. 
That baptism of love, come back to me. 

And I am glad, content and strong once more, 
Grief spreads her sable wings and disappears. 

I pray ^' God bless my darling," o'er and o'er, 
And chide my weak heart for its foolish fears. 



MY LADY. 

SHE is not sedate and queenly, 
Crowned with hair of ebon hue, 
Not a fay with golden tresses 

Shading eyes of heavenly blue ; 
She is not an ideal airy, — 

Dove or floweret, pearl or star, 
Not an angel is my lady. 
But a creature dearer far. 

Just a little, laughing maiden. 

Dusky-haired and hazel-eyed. 
With a heart so filled with goodness. 

Room remains for naught beside. 
Fresh and pure as meadow daisy, 

Ever gentle, loving, gay ; 
Like a sunbeam from my spirit. 

Chasing all the gloom away. 



MY LADY. 73 

As I gladly hasten homeward, 

When the busy day is o'er, 
Gomes to me the golden vision 

Of a bright face at the door ; 
Rou-nd, white arms my neck encircling, 

Rosy lips pressed close to mine, 
Breathing welcome ; ah, my lady. 

Face and arms and lips are thine ! 

Bright eyes dim and Time's rude finger 

Changes e'en the fairest face, 
Care and sorrows of a life-time 

Bow forms once erect with grace ; 
But heart-beauty fadeth never, 

'Tis a loveliness divine, 
And thou hast this priceless treasure 

Darling little lady mine ! 



A PENITENTIAL PRAYER. 

/^^ GOD, I lift my tearful eyes to Thee, 
^^ Hear Thou my prayer ; 

For comfort, Lord, I cry, imploringly, — 
My sorrow share. 

Here at Thy feet, my wounded heart I lay, — 

Thou will not spurn. 
Though I have wandered from Thee far away. 

Nor would return. 

Though oft with patient love Thou did'st beseech. 

In wrath command, 
I heeded not the lessons Thou would'st teach, — 

I built on sand. 

I sought with earthly love my soul to feed, 

But all in vain, — 
It left me famishing in hour of need. 

And brought but pain. 



A PENITENTIAL PRAYER. 75 

Rending the veil that hid my inner life 

From human eyes, 
Revealed past failures, errors, sorrow, strife, — 

In cold surprise. 

Love, seeking for perfection, scornful turned 

From me aside ; 
The comfort, help, and strength for which I 
yearned, 

Were each denied. 

Now, ever faithful Friend, to Thee I come ; 

Dear Lord, forgive ! 
A weary wanderer returning home, 

I pray, receive. 

An empty, undivided heart at last 

I offer Thee, 
O, seal it Thine, — my broken idols cast 

Afar from me. 

With willing feet FU follow evermore 

Where Thou dost lead ; 
Thy love hath proven an cxhaustlcss store 

In hour of need. 



76 A PENITENTIAL PRAYER. 

Within the shelter of Thine arms alone 

Is peace and rest ; 
Dear, tender Saviour, gladly do I own 

Thy love is best. 



ACROSTIC. 

T T EAVEN'S richest blessings I would wish 

^ *- for thee, 

Ever unclouded may thy life-sky be ; 
Love's firmest tendrils round thy heart entwine ; 
Earnest and faithful friends be alway thine ; 
Nightly may angels guard thy slumbers sweet, 
Leading by day aright thy careless feet. 
And guiding thee where living waters flow 
Close to the Shadowing Rock, — in grief or woe 
Yield thou thy will to Christ, who loves thee so. 
Free may'st thou ever be from pain and care. 
And all thy years on earth be glad and fair. 
Radiant as thy life's morning be the night ; 
Glad thine awakening in the Land of Light, — 
Over the river deep, where all is bright. 



THROUGH DEATH TO LIFE. 

/"^ ONE are the fair summer flowers ; 
^-^ Lifeless and shrouded they he 
'Neath the bright-tinted leaves that in showers 
Fall earthward to wither and die. 

Gone are the sweet hopes we cherished, — 

Faded and crushed by despair, 
Like the frail, brilliant blossoms they perished, 

And left us but sorrow and care. 

Vanished, our best-loved, our fairest 

Gone to the ^^ echoless shore ;" 
Death culls first the buds that are rarest, — 

Our sore hearts they gladden no more. 

Sad thoughts that will come all unbidden 

As daily the boughs barer grow. 
While the blue and the silver are hidden 

Above, and Earth tear-bathed below 



THROUGH DEATH TO LIFE. 79 

Lies shivering, for Winter delayeth 
The sheeny, white garment to bring 

In which her cold form he arrayeth, 
Till crocus stars herald the Spring. 

O, faithless ! — Again in the shadow 
Of dim woods, the violets their eyes 

Will open, and daisies the meadows 
Gem o'er, as the stars gem the skies. 

Fair June will return crowned with roses, 
When Nature, rich-robed like a queen, 

Day by day rarer jewels discloses 
Bedecking her raiment of green. 

To hearts where no flower of hope bloweth. 
Storm-tossed on the rough waves of grief. 

Whose bitterness only God knoweth, 
A lesson of hope and belief 

These changes must teach. He who maketh 

The sunshine to follow the rain. 
Who speaks and the frozen earth waketh, 

To smile in fresh beauty again, — 



8o THROUGH DEATH TO LIFE. 

Thus ever His promise repeateth, 
That after Death*s winter is o'er, 

A home for his loved ones awaiteth, 
Where flowerets will bloom evermore. 



JOHNNY^S LETTER. 

T^EAR Ned, your letter's come at last, 

^^ And Nelly's cockatoo, 

Old Captain Cable brought them both. 

'Twas pretty good of you 
To write so much, when it's so hot ; 

How jolly brown you'll be — 
Just like a heathen Hottentot — 

When you come back from sea ! 

I don't believe I'd care to hunt 

In jungles, — at a show 
I'm just as near a lion's jaws 
' As I would care to go. 
Suppose the cannibals you saw 

Had nothing left to eat ? 
Phew! they'd have built a fire, I'm sure, 

And roasted you for meat. 



82 johnny's letter. 

We've all been down at Grandma Lee's, 

And didn't we have fun ! 
We jumped the fences, climbed the trees, 

And made the squirrels run ; 
High on a load of hay we rode 

With Jake and Uncle Nate ; 
We hunted nests, and fed the chicks, 

And swung upon the gate. 

We fished and waded in the creek. 

Shook apples off the trees — 
(I ate so many I was sick) — 

We chased the bumble bees ; 
They stung poor Bobby on the nose. 

And Katy in the eye ; 
It made them look so very queer. 

And oh, how they did cry ! 

Dick made believe he had a horse, 

'Twas nothing but a rail ; 
I tied the duster on behind. 

It looked just like a tail ; 
But he got tired, let go the rein. 

And tumbled on a log, 
Then when I ran to call nurse Jane 

I fell across the dog. 



johnny's LETTER. 83 

I haven't got much more to say, 

And I must go to school. 
I missed my lesson yesterday, 

I said ^^a little bull," 
When teacher asked what bullet meant — 

Why shouldn't it be so 
When streamlet means a little stream ? 

That's what Fd like to know. 

There goes the bell ! I must be off — 

I 'most forgot to say 
That Charley has the whooping-cough, 

And Tom fell off a dray. 
But 'cepting them we're all quite well ; 

Good-by, — remember, now. 
If you don't bring a monkey home 

There'll be the biggest row. 



THROUGH THE STORM. 

T OUD wails the wind to-night, 
^ — ' And shudd'ring gusts of rain 
Swept by the tempest's might 

Dash 'gainst the window-pane. 
High on the wreck-strewn shore 

Breaketh an angry sea, 
And mingled with its roar 

Seem moans of agony. 

Hark to the mournful dirge 

It chanteth ceaselessly ; 
To you the sobbing surge, — 

A requiem to me. 
O'er him who lieth deep 

Beneath the foam-crowned waves, 
Where tangled sea-weeds creep 

O'er lonely, nameless graves. 



THROUGH THE STORM. 

On just as wild a night 

My sailor brave was lost, 
Went down, the cliffs in sight. 

Upon the beach was tossed, 
With broken mast and spar. 

One splintered plank. A name 
They read thereon, — North Star, 

His bark had borne the same. 

Adown the vista dim 

Of vanished days, through tears 
I gaze the while I trim 

My lamp, — alight for years. 
Again upon the shore 

I stand, a happy bride, 
With him whose ship no more 

Will sail in with the tide. 

And still it is aglow, 

This hope in my sad hearto 
Oft in the drear, dark night 

I wake with joyful start. 
His cheery voice I hear, 

His smiling face I see, 
Alas, the dreamlight fades, 

And he comes not to me. 



86 THROUGH THE STORM. 

Wild winds, mad waves moan on, 

Weep sullen, starless skies, 
For me there breaks a dawn, 

An endless day shall rise. 
Far on the further shore. 

Beyond life's troubled sea, 
Where storms come nevermore, 

My love awaiteth me. 



MEMENTOS. 

TWO half-worn shoes, a tress of soft, brown 
hair, 
A broken toy, torn book, and empty chair. 

What memories they bring ! 
I hear once more the patter of his feet. 
The merry laughter, ringing clear and sweet. 

And see him as of old about to spring 
To my embrace, — forgetting, in my joy. 
That in a fairer home, beyond the sky, 

My nestling now doth sing. 

Here is his little cot, the pillow soft 
His wee head rested on so oft, so oft, 

O, it does almost seem 
I could again to mine his red lips press, 
And feel his baby fingers dear caress, 

And see his dark eyes gleam ; 
Alas, that little grave with grass o'ergrown, 
*^Our Darling'' carved upon the marble stone, 

Dispels my happy dream. 



88 MEMENTOS. 

My beautiful, my precious one, in vain 

I reach out empty arms, athrill with pain, — 

With love and longing time can never quell, 
I cannot meekly kiss the chastening rod 
Held o'er me by a just and pitying God, 

My weak heart will rebel. 
O Father ! with Thy peace my spirit fill. 
Help me to say, submissive to Thy will, 

*^ Thou doest all things well." 



AN OWER TRUE TALE. 

PROFESSOR Squallitwelli stood one day, 
Precisely as the clock was striking four, 
At neighbor De Veneer's across the way, 

And pulled the bell full seven times or more. 

I wondered what the long delay could mean, 

For at this hour each day the parlor blinds 
Were opened, and Cecilia could be seen 

And heard^ but only cultivated minds 
And ears could full appreciate the strains 

Which woke the echoes many blocks around— 
Shrieks as of one in purgatorial pains — 

And oft I wished the singer underground 
In some enchanted palace fast asleep 

For fifty years to come, or 'neath the sea 
In pearl-paved cavern of the briny deep. 

Such as Jules Verne describeth knowingly. 

The learned Professor turns at last, — when wide 
The door is thrown. Before him doth appear 

The fair Cecilia's father — at his side 

She stands, her lovely face bedewed with tears. 



90 AN OWER TRUE TALE. 

Thus to the man of notes in wrath he spoke, 
'* Begone, and cross my threshold never more ! " 

From stunned surprise the signor grave awoke 
And questioned, ''Why thus spurn me from thy 
door?'* 

** Why ! Yester eve,*' the angry parent said, 

''A carriage in hot haste through yonder gate 
Was driven, then came shrieks would wake the 
dead — 

The bell rang furiously — I did not wait 
The maid's slow coming ; rushing down the stair, 

In haste the door I opened, and I saw 
Two men, who held a raving maniac there, 

A woman in straight jacket. Mute with awe 
I stood a moment, horrified, amazed, 

Demanding, when at last my voice I found, 
What meant this outrage ? Then on me they 
gazed 

In turn indignant. One said, ' I'll be bound 
Here's some mistake ; I thought 'twas rather 
grand — 

Isn't this a lunatic asylum ? ' ' No ! ' 
r thundered. Well, I hope you understand, 

Your squalling here is ended, — now, sir, go! ** 



FORGET-ME-NOTS. 

ALL o'er ; in agony upon his grave 
A last, fond look they cast, and leave him 
there 
In dreamless rest, — their joy and pride, — to save 
All unavailing proved their love and care. 

Four days of desolation pass away, 

Four nights of anguish, and they come once 
more 
To deck his grave with flowers, to weep and pray 

For one faint whisper from the farther shore. 

'Tis all in vain, — nor voice, nor sigh replies ; 

With doubled sense of loss they turn away — 
When, starting suddenly, the sister cries. 

In joyful tones, ^' O, mother, mother, stay!" 

And parting with her eager, trembling hands 
The little spears of green upon the sod — 

Behold, where pale and mute the mother stands, 
Three blue forget-me-nots look up to God. 



92 FORGET-ME-NOTS, 

With eyes upraised to Heaven, she spoke at last — 
'' The Lord hath seen our tears, and heard our 
prayers ; 

His angel hath these lovely blossoms cast, 
Low at our feet, to bless us unawares. 

" To me they seem as fresh from Paradise, 
And breathe their tender message lovingly. 

O, flowerets sweet, so like my darling's eyes, 
A precious, priceless boon are ye to me ! 

'' To father, mother, sister, do ye bear 

These words of fond remembrance ; and ye teach 

Of Him who saith ' Upon me cast thy care,' 
In silence far more eloquent than speech. 

''O, God, to Thee we lift our grateful prayer. 
For Thou hast given consolation sweet ; 

Forget us not, dear Lord, our sorrow share, — 
Lo, here we lay our burden at Thy feet." 



BENEATH THE PINES. 

T)ENEATH the shadow of the pines 

^^ I stood long years ago, 

Full sweet upon the breeze was borne 

The river's distant flow, 
But sweeter far to me the tale 

My lover whispered low, 
That moonlit night beneath the pines 

So many years ago. 

Beneath the shadow of the pines 

Yet once again we met, 
To part — perchance, no more to meet» 

My heart can ne'er forget 
That bitter pain ; I did not know 

That I had loved him so. 
Until, alone, beneath the pines 

I stood, long years ago. 



94 BENEATH THE PINES. 

Beneath the shadow of the pines 

At eve I oft would stray 
And dream of him, my soldier brave — 

To weep and fondly pray 
For that glad hour when laurel-crowned 

With victory aglow, 
He'd come to woo me 'neath the pines, 

So many years ago ! 

Beneath the shadow of the pines 

We stand again to-night, 
With love unchanged — though o'er my brow 

Are threads of silvery white, 
And light our hearts, as in the hours 

We w^andered to and fro 
Beneath the shadow of the pines 

So many years ago. 



DECORATIVE ART. 

FROM dick's point OF VIEW. 

"X/ES, Tm sick of it all ; 

-■- At every step I take, 
In parlor, bedroom, hall, 
. It's *^ Dick, take care you'll break 
That lovely plaque, I know;" 

They're at me all the time. 
No matter v^here I go 

'Tis just the same old rhyme. 

I hate the latest styles. 

They've carried off my rug, 
And put in horrid tiles. 

The queerest looking jug 
Stands on the mantel shelf. 

Beside a big blue cup ; 
(Ma says they're rare old dclf) 

I'd like to smash them up ! 



96 DECORATIVE ART. 

Then, over mother's bed 

Is hung a monstrous owl — 
The moon's behind its head. 

A crane, or some odd fowl, 
Is painted on a screen, 

That stands the other side— 
With dragons red and green, 

And men all goggle-eyed. 

Two butterflies, and things 

Like grubs, — -s. yellow rose, 
Fat baby boys with wings. 

And hatdly any clothes. 
The parlor's full of stuff. 

Lamps, urns, all kinds of ware,- 
I think we have enough, — 

Pa growls like any bear. 

So many bills come in 

For china, brushes, paint ; 
I think it is a sin. 

And would provoke a saint. 
But no one seems to care. 

They're buying all the time ; 
It's anything but fair. 

For I can't get a dime. 



DECORATIVE ART. 9/ 

The girls, and mother, too. 

Keep talking night and day 
Of crewels, patterns new 

For doilys — what are they ! 
It's always '*Dick be still," 

*' YouVe spoiled my lovely leaf" — 
I'll run away, I will, 

And be an Indian chief! 



FOLLIES OF TO-DAY. 

CADDIE, Mintie, Hidie, Hodie, 
Pattie, Pinkie, Dulie, Dodie, 
FlosGie, Nonie, Tannic, Todie, 

List, ye shades, I pray ! 
Grandames all, of every station, 
Issue forth in protestation. 
And rebuke with indignation. 
Follies of to-day ! 

Gussie, Hennie, Minnie, Mattie, 
DoUie, Gratie, Sadie, Hattie, 
Tiny, Beebie, Birdie, Cattie, 

And a dozen more 
Full as senseless and erratic. 
O, ye belles, who search the attic. 
Take their names, — 'twould be ecstatic, 

With the robes they wore. 



FOLLIES OF TO-DAY. 99 

Grand Matilda, now but Tillie, 
Milicent, instead of Millie, 
Sweet Cecilia, lost in Cillie; 

Sarah, Edith, Kate, 
Jane, Eliza, Rachel, Dora, 
Helen, Lucy, Ruth or Flora, 
Anna, Margaret and Nora, 

Mary, now 'tis Mate. 

Fathers, husbands, all are mourning. 
Fashion's strange, uncouth adorning, 
For the ^^ gentler sex" are scorning 

Feminine attire. 
Collars, neckties, Derbys, Sailors, 
Coats and vests by modish tailors 
Made — and ulsters, — canes from Gaylor's, — 

Can they more desire? 

Yea, ^^ sub rosa," be it spoken, 

Else my peace of mind were broken. 

Cigarettes — the signs betoken ; 

What will follow then ? 
Very little more is needing. 
Other garments superseding 
Skirts. 'Tis thus Dame Fashion's leading, — 

Strike for rights, O men ! 



^'MY GRACE IS SUFFICIENT FOR 
THEE." 

13 E patient when trials assail thee, 

-■^ And hope seems to fade from thy sight ; 

When the glory of morning has vanished 

And left but the darkness of night ; 
In deepest affliction despair not, 

Though bitter the ordeal may be, 
Remember the Saviour's sweet promise, 

*^ My grace is sufficient for thee." 

If blossoms of joy droop and wither, 

When fairest and brightest they seemed. 
Forget not, *^ through great tribulation," 

Have passed all the white-robe redeemed ; 
When loved ones, thy nearest and dearest, 

To join them, cross death's narrow sea. 
Murmur not, He is faithful who promised, 

^^ My grace is sufficient for thee." 



''MY GRACE IS SUFFICIENT FOR THEE." lOI 

Then trust, though the clouds frown above thee, 

And thorns cluster thick 'neath thy feet, 
While others have flowerets and sunshine. 

And quaff from life's chalice but sweet ; 
The reason we shall know hereafter — 

On earth we but darkly can see ; 
Then courage. He suffered, who sayeth 

'' My grace is sufficient for thee." 

Grief purifies, fits us for Heaven — 

A Father's hand holdeth the rod ; 
In joy we forget the kind giver, 

In sorrow we turn unto God ; 
Have faith, then, He ne'er will forsake thee, 

And merciful ever shall be ; 
To tried souls and tempted. He whispers — 

<< My grace is sufficient for thee." 



SUNSET. 



A BOVE the hills, mist-mantled, a wondrous 
^ -^ glory lies. 

Bright billows — gold and amethyst — flood all the 
western skies. 



O, perfect, matchless picture ! O, scene sublimely 

fair ! 
A glimpse of Heaven seeming, of glory shining 

there. 

How slow the purple paleth, the crimson fades 

to gray. 
While sad the night breeze waileth above the 

dying day. 

Its joys and griefs are ended, its cares and trials 

past, 
Its record sealed, O, solemn thought, what if it 

were our last ? 



SUNSET. 103 

Ah, can it be that Heaven's gates each even 

stand ajar, 
While guardian angels wing their flight, unseen, 

from star to star ? 

And if the City's portals are so beautiful to see. 
What must the hidden splendor of the '' many 
mansions "be? 

This hour to me doth holy seem, my soul goes 

forth in prayer 
To God who hath to mortals given a scene so 

grand, so fair ; 

And when my life's last sun hath set, and death's 

long night is nigh, 
O, may I wake in that bright land, where daylight 

ne'er shall die. 




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